Flustered
by BlueRazberry
Summary: This is what it all came down to: separation, heartache, need, desperation, longing. They were together once. He sees her everywhere. She’s scared to live without him, but she can’t speak those words. Both can't move on. LJ. post hogwarts.
1. Prologue

_**A/n**: Hello sweet readers, I got this idea for this story, and I just could not sleep until I actually wrote the story. This story takes place after Hogwarts, and that's all I'm saying now because I don't really know where this story is going and I wouldn't want to give away one of my parts by accident! It starts out with a letter from James to Lily. Read on!_

_**Disclaimer**: These characters I'm using in this story at the moment do not belong to me. But most of these catch-phrases you see in the story do, so please don't steal any of it. _

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**_Prologue _**

_Dear my sweet Lily,_

_How are you? Is your hair still red, and are your eyes till green? Lily, I miss you so much. I miss not being able to see you every day, and my stomach growls unsatisfied even after I've even after I've eaten a meal. I haven't seen you since graduation, and that was nine months ago. I want to see you again so badly, to run my hand through your hair, and to kiss you softly once again._

_Spring is upon us once again Lily; there is no doubt about that. The season comes announcing its presence with the splattering of rain and the boom of thunder. And then surprises us with the sun. It's so predictable, but why does it make with jump each time it comes?_

_The buds of the trees are many, and people think about the fruit that will come from them. The blades of grass are wet with dew each sunrise, and the flowers open their petals to the coming of the morning sun. The days are getting longer and warmer, but each day the sun will set, tinting everything in a gold yellow, a burnt orange and a copper red. _

_I still remember that sunset when we sat together by the lake. We weren't together then but we were still sitting close enough for someone to presume that we were. We enjoyed the other's company and laughing softly at each others jokes. The gold in the air made your hair orange, and your eyes the amber color. _

_I saw a boy pulling a girl's hair the other day in the park. I could help but smile and think of us. I used to annoy you to no end and tease you mercilessly. I only used to hate you because I liked you so much but was so stubborn to actually admit it. _

_What happened to you after graduation? You just seemed to leave. You stopped coming to our little friend meetings. We were all so worried about you. Then you stopped talking to us Lily and that broke my heart. _

_I know I'm not the perfect person Lily. I make mistakes. But at least I try and fix them Lily. You know, one day all those problems you shove aside, and those emotions you hide away will hit you dead on. Lily, I know that you are not the kind of person that admits things right away, and if you don't tell any one, the only one who will hurt is you. _

_I know my mature-ness wasn't at the best grade letter while at Hogwarts, but I've changed, you've changed, and the world changes into something more dangerous everyday. _

_If I could, I want to spend the rest of my lifetime with you. I want to be able to give you warmth on a cold November night, and to wake up to your scent. Lily you are everything to me, to me you are Venus, the air I breathe and the one I care for more than everything I own combined. _

_Without you I'm lost. Food has lost its taste, the world its color, and the sweet scent of a blood red rose makes my stomach churn. I'm afraid of dying without seeing you again Lily. I would put everything on hold for you, everything. _

_Perfection isn't real Lily, even though we all strive for it, we all, want it, and work hard to capture it. But Lily, to you perfection seems natural, and your sense of aurora is always right. You seem to be made of steel, and even after all those comments I said to you when I was meaner, you stood strong. You carried on. I admire you, in that way. _

_The way you carry yourself, so full of pride and confidence make people turn your way. Your beauty comes in so many forms, and your heart is tender for those who you like. The way you can smile and make someone laugh that is in a bad mood is amazing. The way you can show concern for those who don't need it makes people look up to you in admiration. _

_It's not a simple thing Lily. Love is not. I used to think that my love was only an infuriation that I'd get over soon. But it didn't go away, it never did. As the years passed, my love got stronger without me even noticing. I _**love**_ you Lily. I'd give you the world if it was mine to give. Is it not enough?_

_Lily, please, write back to me. You're tearing me apart, piece by piece. And although I seem whole on the outside, my heart is shredded on the inside. Your ignoring me is worse than you hating me and wanting to rip every fiber of my being apart. Lily, you're killing me, and I'm dying a so and painful death that starts in the heart. _

_Love yours forever,  
__ James Potter _

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_**A/N**: That's it, I know its kind of sort, but the chapters will get longer! Review if you want me to continue this story!_


	2. Drenched in Pain

**Author's Note:** Don't kill me for not updating in like five months, and without a new chapter. This is Lily point of view currently. I hope you like it :)

**Disclaimer:** These characters I'm using in this story at the moment do not belong to me, the writing does.

_

* * *

She had run away again. Whisked away by the thoughts of freedom, and becoming so careless, she forgot of who she would be hurting. She was taking the plunge, and in the process falling deeper and deeper into darkness. _

She used to be a child who had attracted so much attention. The glow of her checks painted a rosy red, her auburn curl tousled, and her eyes, the clear color of emeralds of those on royal crowns and rings.

But so much had happened since then. The death of her dear Nana had be heartbreaking news to her. Her grandmother had been so close, and so beloved to her upbringing. She had made her feel cherished for once, made her feel love and happiness and joy.

Those feelings that used to radiate off her skin were buried once again. Until she met him.

Getting her letter to Hogwarts had been such a surprise to her, and it had been so welcomed. There was a sudden shift of power that was in her grasp. And a sudden change of heart.

Oh, but he had been ruthless, attacking those who were weak for his own enjoyment. Showing her no heart, making him so prone to her deep hate.

But yet, he had warmed her heart again and he had earned a special place there, maybe it was small, but it was growing. He made her feel like she belonged somehow. He made her so mad and angry and all these other feelings all at once. She was scared, and so confused. After all, there is a thin line between love, and hate.

And as the leaves change their color in the fall season, and the buds of spring change into fruit, he had changed, and she was now slipping into his grasp.

-------

The letter made her feel heartless again, she had left him without a sudden warning, without a note, and she had stripped him of his heart.

As she shifted her graze to the envelope once again, her heart seemed to break even more.

She had promised herself that she would forget him, she had told herself never to dwell in the past. But the past was persuasive, luring her to it making her drown in itself, and the darkness was just around the corner, ready to pounce and swallow its prey.

That messy scrawl was his, only his, unmistakably his. The words he had written for her. In the handwriting that had written her so many notes before, some of which were the loveliest things she had ever read.

Her hands seemed to find their way back to the letter, She could open it, couldn't she? There was no harm. And her heart was begging her, asking what the big deal was, he was a nice boy. To handsome for his own good. And she wanted to see him again.

But the sensible side, that just wouldn't let her be lured, won.

* * *

Their last year had been the greatest, and her life had reached what was though to be a peak. The undeniable hate ad disappeared, and a friendship had begun, although it was only yet a tender shoot, joy and care were making it thrive, making it climb higher and higher.

They couldn't avoid each other anymore, their schedules simply wouldn't allow it, for they were one and the same. Teachers paired them up for assignments, and the company that was once regreatable, was enjoyable, and they always received the highest marks in the class.

As head students, they were given their own common room, to escape the noisy outside and to work in peace.

They would spend long hours by the fire, he working on homework, and she reading her book. She always had her homework done. They'd discuss current topics of gossip, help each other out, or simply enjoy the other's company.

The shoot was now a plant, blooming with life, standing up tall. Never bowing to the wind.

Oh it was perfect the firelight flicking in each other's faces, and each of them in turn taking a glance at the other next to them when they thought the other was looking.

She remembered the Christmas they had spent together. Their friends always seemed to have something to do now, leaving more time to spend with James. Not that either of them minded. As for Lily she knew that James was starting to grow on her, he knew how to make her laugh, and when his jokes just simply went too far. He knew when to be caring and try to help her through the rough course that was paving the way before them. Each not knowing that the other was slowly, but surely, falling in love.

Their love was young, it was only the first bud, its leaves shaking in the cold, and were sure to fall off. But they didnt. Love kept it growing, love kept them happy, even if they were blind to it.

Those were some of the happiest days she had since her childhood, but it was all too good to last. They had simply gone to Hogsmede together; it wasn't something that they had planned out. Just something that had gone with the moment. They had spent the day laughing and shoveling snow that each other. The kind of day that makes you just happy to be alive. And the day Lily had dreaded was the worst mistake of her life.

She knew she couldn't have avoided the obvious attraction James had on her, or the quickening beat her heart seemed to take each time he'd send a smile at her. But she thought, if only she could make it through the last couple of months of school she would be okay, because after that, she would be gone.

It was something she had thought over for a long time. She had replayed all the steps to her plan over and over in her head. It would work. It would have to work. She would head over to Paris where her cousin lived, and attend the Healing Academy there, it would be hard, but she knew French herself. She had been owling back and forth to her cousin Annette all year. She had it all planned out, or so she thought.

The day in Hogsmede with James changed it all. She had stumbled on a tree root and he had caught her. He had held her for a long time, looking directly in her eyes, for a sign. He found nothing. He had just stared into her eyes and she had stared back. He had pulled her a little closer and her heart started to beat a litter faster. His forehead came to rest on hers, flesh on flesh.

It was a cold day, but his breath was warm and inviting coming out in little white puffs, and she had known hers was doing the same. He pulled her even closer. He looked down at her. She was something special, something he had worked so hard to earn, her trust, and respect. Any wrong move could blow it.

He thought he wasn't ready to take the risk, but he knew that there must be something there, or she would be gone already. The cold seemed to start to bite at them, but all each other needed was the warmth their bodies were giving off.

His lips moved closer to hers, and her eyes shut on their own awaiting the feel of him on her lips. It was something unbelievable and out of a story book. It wasn't because you felt fireworks going off, or that the kiss was hot and passionate. It was because there was love there. It was what made people that walked by them sigh and wonder if they'd ever get kissed like that.

They held on to each other long afterwards, embracing each other, and going over what happened again and again in their minds. They of course, could never go back to just being friends ever again without feeling awkward.

Lily knew should have fled then. Apologizing to James and saying that she didn't feel the same way, and that they could still be friends. But her heart stopped her.

"There is nothing wrong with being in love Lily; it is one of the most magical things that thrive in this world." Her mother used to tell her when she was young and used to make a distasteful face when her mother read those fairytale stories where the girl would be passionately kissed by her knight in shining armor.

How right her mother was. James was her knight in shining armor. He was always there when she needed him. He'd always be there to share a laugh. In class he used to send a young boyish grin to her, when he knew when everyone had to be looking, and her heart would patter, and she'd try to smile without laughing.

He knew how to take care of her. At night when she was tired and still furiously scribbling her assignment away, he'd hold her for a while and tell her to take a break with him.

It wasn't all about the love-making with James, but his kisses were always something to look foreward to. He'd never pushed her anywhere she didn't want to, for he was too much of a gentleman to do that.

Overall, James was perfect.

But she was scared, his feelings were so strong, and so pure, while she wasn't as sure with hers at all. She really loved him, she knew that. But she was feeling cowardly, to afraid of what was to come next. Marriage? No, thats not what she wanted. Yet she felt as if she was moving closer and closer to it.

And so she fled. She was going to start over with her cousin in France, start over without love. She left without explaing, she left without an end. She wasnt the only one that left with a heavy broken heart. there was a another, there was him.

But didnt she know? Starting without love is not a start at all. We are all brought into the world with love, love of the purest kind. The love of mothers. And we all depart just the same, with loved ones standing over your casket, and wishing you well in the next life.

But as she stepped into the black she didn't go back. And slowly, her heart was withering away, becoming cold as the darkness swept over her.

The shoot that had grown into a beautiful plant, now lay dying, for there was no love to nurture it, no happiness to fill its roots and bring it to life.

* * *

It wasn't the easiest thing she had ever done. It was one of the hardest if not the hardest, leaving James was. What kind of person was she? She had just left him, without an explaination, and left him with a broken heart.

She sighed and got up from the large mahogany desk she was sitting in and shut the letter, unopened, into one of the drawers of the desk.

She got lost again, lost in all the feelings she couldn't hid, and all the pain that she carried with her. And she couldn't help but shed a single salty tear, the first one in months.

He loved her like there wouldnt be a tommorrow; everyday. He helped her up, and put her needs before his. His heart had warmed hers. His passion igniting her own. But now it was all gone, like the birds that migrate, like the salmon that swim upriver. Except, birds and fish came back, and she felt that his love would never again return.

It was like there was a rough hand holding her heart in the center of its palm. Every time his name was mentioned, the heart would close so tightly over her heart, making her dizzy and dropping her heart cruelly into her stomach, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She had missed London, the busy streets, the scents of morning in the city. And so she had moved back, with much protest from her cousin, back to where her home was, where her mind thought of as a second haven.

She acquired a job in St. Mungo's, a very prestigious healing hospital, and so she lived, trying to escape heartbreak. Trying to escape pain.

But how could she? It was everywhere. It lined the air, it fell with the rain, and it wasn't possible to get rid of it. Fear was the other thing, so deep and driven it drove people to the brinks. It drenched the people as the walked; even with a crowd they didn't feel safe. A laugh was very scarce in public, for the men and women, boys and girls, looked down while holding on to her lovers or mothers to their children.

There wasn't time lingering around anymore. The hospital was filled with those who were so brutally attacked, and the most of the victims drifted in and out of consiousness, many with inguries to terrifying to say. Too many patients, too little time. No time to notice love. For if they didnt save a person, there was only pain for another, a pain that couldn't be healed, a pain that only Lily understood.

She had lost a patient. Died right as she was curing him. Calling for his lover before his eyes shut for the last time. And she had never felt so usless, her soul was thrown to the ground, depressed.

She wondered if you could look at your own heart. She wondered what she would see. Would she see the places where it had to be mended? Would she see the permanet brusies that her heart held? Was it blackened but the lack of love, the lack of joy?

Would she have to turn away from seeing her own heart?

It seemed everyone but her knew the answer. Lily was a person that was hard not to like, and she had a bright love surround her soul, something that was blocking the darkness out, something that she didn't recongize, but everyone else did. But there was all something that was blacker than the devil, larger than the opening of hell that clocked out the bright glow from getting to her heart, it was the black that had turned her away from love, that shunned it away.

They knew she as human, but sometimes it didnt seem as though she was. Sometimes she'd walk away with a expression deeper than the deepest pain they had ever known of. It was like she was a dead person lingering in a living body. It scared the wits out of each of them, but it also made them look at her differently, it made then take an effort to help her.

On those day where she walked with her head down, dark eyes, and slow movements, it made that people that cared for her with so much tenderness, ache for her. And although she hid her pain with a forced smile that was almost believable, they saw right through it. They went home and prayed for her, prayed for the sweet redheaded girl.

They prayed that she would find a path to peace, and that she would meet someone who who love her souncontrollably, that they would never have to she her in such a state. They prayed to the gods that her heart would heal, and that she could smile more often when she was truly happy.

Lily didn't know people cared for her so deeply.

And she didn't know that a certain man was crying for her, and loving her from the distance. He wished that she could feel his love. But she was numb, and a heartbreaking distance from him.

* * *

**A/n**: So lyke yo. I reposted this chapter and i hope it explains more than the old one. I will be reposting chaper three shortly, and will be posting a new chapter four.  
ttfn, ta ta for now.

**OH! And I need a beta, if you'd like to be it, please email me.  
**And review guyz, you know you want to.


	3. The Reign

The day proved itself to be a bad one, in more ways than one. The gods showed no mercy on the weak, mortal creatures that walked the earth. The rain was endless; it had started from the dawn of the previous morning, and continued on today, the skies kept their gray color, looking almost darker than the night before. The rain poured down in an elegant diagonal slope, and made a beautiful symphony of sounds while falling upon everything that was covered. It soaked everything that it touched, like a fire that devastates a plain of dried grasses.

In the country it watered the farmer's fields and saved them a day of work in the fields, and they took company in their barns were the rain couldn't reach. In the city rain drops splashed against the window panes of buildings thirty stories up, pattering against the solid window panes, making the faces of the people inside almost wishful, and slid down like a stream into the gutter.

People ran across crosswalks with the morning newspaper, which was long since read, and had no other purpose than to protect them from the rain, over their heads. For those who had turned on the telly this morning and had a chance to catch the news brought umbrellas which hid them from the world, for the shadow of the umbrella made their faces disappear into darkness.

The wind howled through the trees, and joined the rain in playtime, stirring the leaves, and littered newspapers making them rise and then fall back down to earth were they would later be picked up by the kind people in the streets, but for now they were forgotten.

The thunder boomed, but yet there was no following flash of yellow light. It rolled over the cities, and made the children who were sent to sleep curl up in their beds and wish for morning to come.

The stranger walked down an empty street, his hat tipped down over his somber eyes. Leaves and wadded, soggy papers tumbled around his long legs, but he paid no mind. The likes of his face were not seen, except his strong angular jaw. As he stepped into the gaudy pub, he was greeted with warmth and the smells of whiskey and rum. Around him the clatter of beer bottles and empty glasses being banged, and the drunken laughter engulfed him. The other strangers paid no attention to him, and he sat in the corner facing away from the rest of the room.

He took off his hat, for he was raised with manners, and immediately his jet black hair seemed to stick up, no amount of water or any product would change that, and he had gotten over the fact years ago. The dim lighting that came from the little bubs in the cracked ceiling was dim, and he took the appearance of someone who was tanner than he really was. His pine green eyes were speckled with gold, and stood out against his face like red against black. Under his eyes sat the footprints of crows, and his face was rough, like he hadn't seen a blade in days.

And then he clenched fists, and his body seemed to hunch over. He was weary, not with age, but with time and pain. The likes of which emotions had withered the glow from his eyes, and the warmth from his face, and had taken the love from his heart.

_There she stood, an angel in white dressed by the gods. There she was, her red locks pouring out of her head, and emerald eyes beaming at him, she was calling his name, and holding her hand out for him to take, but no matter how hard he tired, her hand was never in his, and slowly she was fading into the distance, still smiling happily as though nothing was wrong. And then she was gone. _

He sighed, and brought his hand up to cover his eyes. What was it about her? It was just something, he couldn't quite put it into words. Sure, there had been other girls after, when he though that maybe his heart could learn to love another, but how wrong he was, how he felt as though he had violated her. That he did something wrong to Lily Evans.

He was broken, broken into so many pieces that were scattered away by some wind. He had given her everything and more, and so he thought. He had kept her hands warm on winter days, and always had held her close to his heart. He was never far from her, he was her guardian angel, he'd always be there for her.

She stopped talking to him eventually, just closed up, like a muscle does when the tide goes in. She stopped meeting him, and their friends. She always seemed so sad, and always in deep thought, as though she was arguing with herself.

And how on those days he had felt so helpless. How much it had hurt when she pushed him away or slid her hand out of his. And that little piece of her was fading, breaking apart from the homeland, a piece of the puzzle was always missing now, the most important piece.

Sometimes he felt as though he was underwater fighting the current to come up for a breath of air. And it seemed everything was against him, like some invisible force was always trying to get him to fail.

He was too busy, too tired. The office was filled with complaints of why everyone wasn't doing a better job, why anyone hadn't caught Voldemort. And that they sure didn't seem like they knew people were dying. All that was crap, didn't they know they saw that? Didn't they know it made them sick to the bones every time they saw his mark?

They weren't the ones out there. They couldn't see the mangled bodies, the blood, and the helpless faces.

The days seemed too short; there was so much to be done, so much that they still didn't know. They were keeping all of this from them for a good reason, but then he wondered... Some people still weren't taking this guy seriously, they couldn't see his cruelty. Maybe that's how it is.

When we grow up in a society that is as secure as can be, and violence is a thing only in dreams. Will we ever see the horrible monster that lurks inside everyone? The thing that waits until utter chaos is insured and then turns you into a savage?

He wanted nothing but for things to return to normal, a safe place for people to laugh and play again. A time where children could go safely outside.

He was broken away from his thoughts by a voice. High and chirpy. A spring songbird..._but then it was twisted and mutated, it wasn't singing a pretty tune...it turned into a horrible dementor...the black figure coming closer and closer...he had to get up, he had to fight this monster, he reached for his wand..._

"Hey mister!"

He was being shaken by the waitress, and he realized it was only the shadow of the woman, growing as she had come closer to him. His hands were shaking, his whole body was trembling. He closed his eyes and said a prayer of thanks. He had to be on his toes, wherever he went. He was never off duty.

"Can I get you something hon?"

He looked at the waitress for the first time. He was averagely pretty. Nice blue eyes, and curly blond hair. He looked to the hands that were holding the pad and pen, and on her left finger sat a ring. And when he looked up to meet her eyes again, she warped. She warped into Lily, and suddenly he felt like dying. She was married...

"Excuse me? Mister-," she was cut off, and a deep low voice answered, "He'll have a beer. Make it two." The woman nodded and rushed off to deliver the order.

The new man was abnormally tall, and handsome, with eyes that matched the darkest gray outside.

"Padfoot."

"Prongs. Nice to see you're up and about."

"Don't count on this becoming regular."

The man dubbed Padfoot gave a heavy sigh, and took a seat next to him. "I hate to see you like this. It's just- it's just not how you used to be. Personally, I think that you're probably better off without her."

After hearing this James slammed his fist down on the table. "How can you say that? She was the best thing that happened to me, she- " anger that was apparent in his voice was slowly fading away, and then he just stopped speaking. He suddenly seemed unsure of himself.

"I'm only saying this for your own good James, you know you've looked all over for her, and obviously she didn't care enough to properly break it off- she was no good for you." Sirius said quietly, but even as he heard his own words he knew it was a lie. Lily had made him happier than anything. It wasn't that he didn't feel happy hanging out with the Marauders, it was just a different kind of happy with her.

Before they could each get something out, the door opened again, and a haggard looking man entered through it. It wasn't that he was old; it was just the enormous bags under his eyes, yellow wolfish eyes. No rest.

"Hello old chaps." He said quietly, but with an edgy tone to it.

"Mooney! Haven't seen you in a while, you look great," said Sirius as he got up to embrace the new man.

"Yes, yes, well, Dumbledore has got me running messages back and forth. It's not an easy job," he started. "What's his diagnosis," he said a little more quietly, clearly meaning for only Sirius to hear, "I see you finally got him to come out of his hole," He said gesturing his head in an obvious sort of way towards James.

"Same problem. And thank you, it wasn't an easy job but I managed to do it," Said Sirius puffing out his chest and standing up a little taller.

James snorted, and let out a low chuckle. Remus's and Sirius's head shot in the direction in where he was sitting.

"He didn't get me anything. You know I wouldn't listen to him anyways." He got up and walked towards Mooney, and grabbed him in a brotherly hug.

James smiled a bit when he pulled back.

"I see you've come out of your no-talking-only-moaning-and-sleeping phase." Said Remus, "Come out to enjoy the sunshine have you?"

James's eyes crinkled, and he laughed again. "Of course, why else would I be out here? Obviously not to talk to that dog," he said gesturing to Padfoot, who suddenly looked offended.

"You're mean," said Mooney.

"Mr. Padfoot agrees with Mr. Mooney and thinks that Mr. Prongs should be stripped and beaten like the naughty school boy he is."

Three sets of eyebrows went up; James's, Remus's, and those of the waitress.

She looked startled for a moment before she set the drinks down on the table and walked away, shoulders shaking.

All three of the men let up a booming laugh, and then took their seats, James in the middle, Sirius on his right, and Remus on his left.

"Where's Wormtail?" asked James suddenly, as though that was the piece of the puzzle that was missing the entire time.

"He's visiting his mother in Wales, don't you remember him telling us?" said Sirius.

"No, can't recall that I do," said James as he racked his mind for that memory.

"That was because you were drunker than Sirius when he's drunk," said Remus, "and that's drunk."

They all let out a chuckle again.

"Let's go out tonight." Said Sirius suddenly, "I have the urge to be out there on the dance floor partying all night again."

"Don't you always have that urge? That and shagging every creature with a nice set of legs," said Remus.

"It's not my fault that I'm better looking than both of you combined."

"Yeah, you wish," said James.

Suddenly he got up. He slapped a few bills on the table, and headed towards the door.

"We'll pick you up at eight!" yelled Sirius.

"And get some sleep," chimed Remus.

"And find a razor and use it!" said Sirius.

Before either of them could comment again. He said, "I get it, personal grooming is in order." Then he walked out the door, and into the fading daylight.

He realized that this was his first step towards independence. The reign of Lily Evans was over, it was time for James to take over.

LJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJ  
Disclaimer: don't own anything.

A/N: I know Sirius was being harsh on Lily. James is growing up! Don't ask me if it's going to last. I really don't know. There was your happiness for all those of you who were asking for it. :D  
I think depression is in order again. Bleh, just kidding. Or maybe not….

o.o

Revviieeww! You know I love them!  
P.s. Happy New year!


	4. Fire in my Veins

The club was crowded and smelled of alcohol and sweat. A bar was set up on the right, but the rest of the building was solely dance floor except the DJ's table in another corner of the room. Everyone took advantage of this, of the large space, and was shouting and laughing, dancing the night away.

It was dark, almost dark enough that you couldn't see the person you were dancing next to. The lights changed colors rapidly, from an azure to magenta, to a disgustingly bright yellow.

On the wooden walls hung old people, they were all muggle, seeing as this was a muggle club, famous muggles that had visited the bar over the years. In every one of the people was the owner. He looked young and joyful in a picture from the 60s with some muggle music artist, and in the most recent one, old and slightly solemn.

James sighed. He was wasting his time. He certainly didn't want to be here. Not only was he not in the mood, but he was suffering from another bout of Lily Pain, with a capital 'P'.

He had returned home to his flat only to trip over an album of old photos from school, and of course, Lily was in the majority of them. She was either scowling at him, laughing at him, or simply not looking at him at all. In all the months that he coped with his loss, it never got any easier. It never got easier knowing that she left him so heartbroken, and with so many questions for her.

At first he had though it was because he was pressuring her, taking too much of her time. He was still young, she was still young, and the world certainly wasn't going to run away from them any time soon. He remembered apologizing….

"_Lily!" he called, walking into her flat, she shared it with one of her old Hogwarts friends even though he had offered, begged really, for her to move in with him. There was more than enough room in his flat of course, and it would be just so much more convenient not to go back and forth from flats in mornings in order to get ready. _

_After waiting quite a bit at the front of her door, he walked into the hallway. "Lily?" The only thing that greeted him was silence. He suddenly realized that the walls looked bare. They were barer than usual. Things were missing from shelves, pictures of him and Lily, books were gone, and things were getting packed up. But why? _

_He walked into the space before Lily's room, and listened for something. There was nothing to hear. _

_He knocked before going in, just to make sure. Her room was bare, except for her bed, and her empty desk and selves. And on the floor of that lifeless room was Lily, looking as dead, and pale as ever. _

"_James," she said sitting up and straightened up. _

_He saw her hand go briefly to her eyes, and then drop down just a quickly. Was she crying? _

"_I didn't hear you come in, sorry, I was just a little caught up in things." _

_She stood up next to him, looking small and delicate. She had a small frame, with long legs but a short torso. He stood only a few inches taller than her, but he was built broader, more muscular. His eyes were drawn to her eyes at once. They were slightly pink, and her face was a little blotchy, oh she had definitely been crying. _

"_Are you okay Lily?" he said reaching out to her. _

_She turned so that his hand couldn't touch her. That stung. _

"_Lily…is it something I did? If it's about all the pressure-" _

"_It's nothing you did." She said curtly, refusing to meet his eyes. She did this when she was lying. Did she really think that he would find out that she was feeding him a lie? Did she know that he knew her better than that? There was pain there, it no longer stung, it burned, it ached, and it was overwhelming him. _

"_Lily, I know you're lying. Tell me what's bothering you, I can help," he pleaded. _

"_James," she said, this time looking directly into his eyes. "At the moment, there is nothing you can do to help me. The best thing would be for you to leave me alone for the moment so I can think. I'll tell you when I'm ready. Be patient, just wait." _

_He nodded. He trusted her. He loved her, she loved him. He leaned in for a kiss. _

"_James," she whispered, turning away. _

"_Okay. Okay Lily." He said walking out the door. "I'll be here when you need me." He said turning around one last time and walking slowly down the empty hallway, and out the wooden door. _

That old memory seemed like decades ago, but the pain and the angst never faded, it was as real as ever. That was probably one of the last times Lily would willing talk to him.

Near the end, he had to ask a question for her to talk, and when she did it was forced and always short. And then she just left.

He sighed, sitting on one of the bar's plush red stools; he examined the room for what seemed like the eightieth time. It was the same every time he examined it, it didn't change. It was the same people, bumping and grinding to the beat. Electricity was being generated; the sharp smell of lust was clinging to the air.

Every time he spotted red hair, he mind would start to flashback to Lily. No one seemed to have her exact shade. She used to hate it so much. She actually came back to school one summer with different colored hair.

_It was the summer after fourth year, and he and the other marauders were coming back for their fifth year. The station was its usual crowded place; people going every which way, but the occasional familiar Hogwart's face in the crowd could be spotted. He and Sirius just came onto the platform. _

_They were laughing about something or the other, thinking about all the new pranks that they could pull this year. _

_And then she made her entrance. She had always been pretty to James, from her awkward years when he used to poke fun of her, to these years where she was becoming more of a lady. _

"_Evans," he remembered gaping, "your hair, it's, it's-" _

"_Blonde Potter? I believe that's old news to me." She said crossing her arms and scowling at him. _

_It wasn't that she looked bad with blonde hair, it was just, to put it plainly, it didn't fit her. Although she could take credit on choosing the color, it wasn't a platinum blonde like the other many girls had; it was a natural shade of blonde, more strawberry. _

"_Mmm…Evans, I think I like you better blonde, it's sexy," he heard Sirius say from beside him. Padfoot earned a sharp nudge for that, Lily was his. _

"_Evans, what, what possessed you to dye your hair?" he said incredulously. _

"_What? You don't like it?" she said tapping her foot. _

_James shook his head. _

"_After all, you were the one who hated my red hair, not that I give a damn what you think about me, and I decided it was time for a change," she said flinging her hair at towards him and walking away. _

He smiled inwardly. He loved her hair. It was something that set her apart from everyone else. Not that if her hair was a more common color she wouldn't still be special, but her hair was just so different. As Sirius took a seat on the stool next to his, James didn't even cast the slightest glance at him, as though he was a stranger, and at the moment, it seemed as though he was.

Sirius, when he was utterly smashed, as he was now, was different, and at the moment, he couldn't cope with different. He needed his pal back.

"James!" Sirius roared in his ears.

James flinched at the loud noise, and turned his head towards Sirius. He looked into the drunken eyes of a friend, which were filled with gayness, and sparkling brightly even in the dim lighting.

"What is it?" said James not looking Sirius completely in the eyes.

"Go out there and dance man! There are so many pretty ladies to choose from!" and even as he said this, a blonde came over and tapped his shoulder and asked him to dance. Before he went off with the girl, he turned back to James. And for a brief five seconds he was himself, "If you want to go home, I'll go with you."

James looked his friend straight in the eye, "You know you want to go. I can make it home myself."

Sirius gave an unconcerned shrug of the shoulders and walked onto the floor with the blonde in tow.

James got up and made it toward the exit. He didn't want to stay here any longer than he already had. But he certainly didn't make it towards the door without a couple of invitations to dance, all of which he politely declined, until the seventh girl came up to him. And since he was already agitated from all of the other askings he practically roared at her to leave him the bloody hell alone. Which not only pissed off the girl, but also got him thrown out of the club, it was something about anger management or some other crazy muggle idea.

Even though he could have saved time and just apparated, the night seemed to call out to him, and so he started walking.

A gentle breeze was in the air, and the night was clear after the afternoon rain. The moon was a thin crescent in a velvet sky. The white jewels embroidered into the fabric were of all shapes and sizes, and each star was trying to outshine the next. It was a night that reminded him of a cold February…

_James had woken up in his room at the sound of a door closing. He knew what it was, and with sleep in his eyes, he pulled on a cloak and followed in the previous person's foot steps. _

_As he opened the door to the school grounds he was met with a blast of cold winter air that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. _

_There was still some snow, and it glittered in the light from the heavens. As he stepped outside, his foot made contact with the still frosted ground, and he was suddenly reminded that he hadn't even bothered to put on shoes. He carried on anyways. _

_Step after step he winced, but it resided as the bottoms of his feet grew numb to the coldness. _

_She was where he thought she'd be. She was under the beech tree where they often sat and talked of the world. She was hunched over and her shoulders were shaking, but she made no sound. She kept quiet, bringing her feelings into the bottle in her chest, never sharing them. She always stayed so strong. But now as he looked at her under the leafless tree, his heart ached. _

_She was helpless, exposed to the world in the cruel manner as life often did it. _

_He walked towards her, in slow easy steps that let her know that he was there, that he was there to help her, to hold her._

_When she tilted her head up slightly and saw him, she only cried harder. _

_He tried to send a beam of love to her, but it wouldn't work, it never worked with Lily. She simply couldn't receive anything, and all she did was give. It was sad in a way; here was a girl that was wrecked up inside with bouts of depression, and nausea and so many other emotions just swirling around inside her head. Her brain was spinning like after you watched a merry-go-round. Her inner self, her true inner self, was in turmoil. But all she ever did was give little bits of herself away, even when there was nothing to give. _

_If his heart was aching before, it was breaking now. He sat down besides her, his arms wrapping around her upper back, his fingers grazing her body through the thin layer that she wore. She was cold. _

_He pressed her to him, holding her as tightly as would if the world was ending. He wanted to share his heart with hers, give her his warmth, so she could be warm. _

_Her head was buried into his chest, and he could feel the warm drops of saline solution wetting his shirt, but he didn't care. _

_With every tear she cried, he held her tighter, and when her tears finally quieted, he rocked her back and forth. _

_They didn't notice the time pass. It was like they were in their own dimension, where time was nonexistent, and moments were blurred into each other. _

_As they sat there in the early morning hours, cold did not affect them. They were so numb they felt warm, warm with a passion. _

"_James," came her voice, once again steady and even. _

_He waited a moment, and watched as her breath came out in a small puff of white smoke, to see if she would speak again. She was silent. Her head fit into the crook of his neck like it was meant to be there. Their bodies felt each other's warmth, each other's heartbeat, and every breath that was taken. _

_His fingers, numb, and barely moving, gently lifted her frozen face. His hand cupped her face, and the other tilted her chin up. _

"_Lily-" He began, searching for words to say. _

_As it was, he didn't have to say anything, because Lily craned her head up so that her lips met his. _

_It was a warm, soft kiss under the lightening of the sky. It was lazy, and moist. It was a closed mouth kiss, and each parted their own lips only very slightly. _

_When they came up for air, it was like breaking through ice, it was that sigh of relief after a struggle of desperation. _

_As they resumed their former positions (which they would stay in until after breakfast) any onlooker could say it was only one thing. _

_It was love. _

His beaten black shoes scuffed the ground as he walked. He walked like a man who had the weight of a camel on his back; his shoulders sagged, his head was slightly tilted down.

_This is hell _thought James. And indeed, it really was.

One day at a time. That's all James could bare to think about. Don't look too far into the future, and try not to look back. But that was all fucking bullshit. Whoever said that obviously wasn't going through any emotional trauma.

He kept walking, he hardly even knew where he was, and he was almost certain he was going to wrong way.

Taking more of a look at his surroundings, James realized that he was not indeed lost, but instead he found himself rather close to the Leaky Cauldron.

He walked to the end of the street and found the old train tracks where back in his grandfather's day, freight trains traveled day and night. He could imagine the old honking horn, and the slight chugging sound the train made as it moved closer and closer to its destination.

He kept walking, for how long he didn't know. He didn't know where he was going, or how far he had already gone.

He turned a corner and kept walking.

And then he saw the fire.

He though he was imaging the bright red flames at first. For where was the commotion? Where were the people waiting outside of the house for the fire truck?

But it was no mirage, nor was it a dream of any sort. It was real.

And then he heard the screams. There were so many, all at once. The neighborhood was waking up from a deep slumber; they gazed at the silent, deadly fire which was licking the house.

The fire rose higher as each minute went to waste.

He heard the distant sirens of a truck racing, trying to get here on time.

They weren't going to make it.

He heard the whispers of the usual neighborhood gossips, and the cries of babies who were waken from their sleep.

His own mind was racing. Were there people inside this house?

Before he knew it, he was running. He was running towards the danger, the fire. He dodged through the thickening crowd of people all fully awake but still in their night gowns. They were all blurs as he raced past them.

He ignored the sounds of the people behind him. He jogged in through the burning doorway.

The doorway collapsed behind him.

LJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJLJ

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything except the plot.

**A/n:** Wow, it's been a while. Thank you, thank you to everyone who reviews. It means a lot. I can't promise any more updates really soon, but keep in mind that I _do_ plan on finishing this story.


	5. Stained with Blood

Blood. That's all I saw. Blood on the formally pristine white walls, blood on the linoleum floor that was checkered teal and white, blood on my white shoes, blood on my once spotless uniform, blood on the pen I was using to write this woman's charts, blood on my white latex gloves, blood under the plastic layer of skin, blood on my bare hands. Blood, scarlet as it spilled and maroon as it dried. It was everywhere, there was no escape. The hallways reeked of dying bodies, sterile equipment, and the faint rust-like smell of blood that lingered in the hallway. No amount of scrubbing could get that smell out.

More people were dying than being born; the wizarding population was taking a big hit. People were fleeing the country only to be brought back as corpses with dead, empty eyes as they were carried away in caskets. Many people were heard shrieking, screaming, calling out for help in the middle of the night- screams that made your toes curl involuntarily from horror. These were the screams that were the music of my life.

It was as though I were on a merry-go-round. The paint-chipped solid horses were mangled bodies. Death eaters rode the contraption from hell with me, jeering and laughing at me as I tried to find a way off the unyielding, interminably moving platform. The music that was playing was the loud screams, crackles, and terror.

And I could never get off.

Sometimes in the hazy dream world, while I was on the gruesome version of the once favorite childhood ride, I saw James. He was standing only meters away, he called and smiled at me and I would reach out for him. Reach out for the arms I knew comforted me. But I was turning, and he was still.

I never found him.

I could never reach out to him.

Those were the worst dreams.

I woke up after dreams like those drenched in sweat, and crying silent tears. And then I would curl my legs to my chest and wait for sleep. But I was always too scared for sleep. At times like those I would turn on every light in the flat – as though this could keep out the darkness. Sometimes I cried myself to sleep again; sometimes, I didn't sleep at all.

I was afraid of the dark.

I was afraid of all the things that lurked in the places that my eyes could not distinguish. I was scared of the things that I couldn't see, which I couldn't make sense of. I wasn't afraid of Lord Voldemont; it was the devastating things that he did to the innocent that was bloodcurdling.

It was the wounds of the people- holes in chests, bodies turned inside out- that I was afraid of.

In a way, I suppose I was scared of being scared. I couldn't crumble. I couldn't take a step back in this hour of need. Our side needed all the help we could get. I couldn't let my cowardness get in the way of saving lives and fighting for something that was right and just.

People say that the right side always wins in the end, but I just can't see it. I just can't see in the logic in it. If it is true, and our side will win in the end, the end is very, very far away. So far, I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, and I'm still surrounded in darkness- there is no sun to light my way. I'm taking baby steps into the cave by using the walls for guidance.

I can't see us winning. As much I want to- as much as I want to remain optimistic- I just _can't_. When you've seen things like I have- the crowded hospital- the lines- the blood- the cries of pain and sadness and anger- it's hard to see any hope. I feel like I'm fighting a battle I can't win.

But that doesn't mean I can't try. I keep my feelings to myself and keep taking those baby steps, and I'll try to believe in the light at the end of the tunnel.

I felt my sneakers squeak- it was raining outside again- against the tiled floor as I ran with the bed that was carrying my current patient. My nurse was pushing the cart into a room as fast as she could, and I was running as fast as I could in the crowded hallway.

There were no empty rooms; people were three, four, five or even six to a room. The only privacy one got was the thin plastic curtain that wrapped around the beds.

"Honey."

I didn't guess where the voice was coming from. I knew it was from the old, crumbling lady.

"I'm going to die. Find Mr. Wilson- my husband- oh my- I feel as though I can see god-,"the voice was strained, and the speech was paused as the elderly woman gasped for breath. I could see the pain in her eyes- the sadness- the hope for a new start in a world without violence.

My own heart was in overdrive, "Mrs. Wilson, please- you're going to be okay, please hang on a little longer." But, even as I said that, I could hear her heartbeat slowing.

All I had down on her charts was that there was extensive injury to her head. Where her husband claimed she had fallen down the stairs. And her knee had looked dislocated, but we popped that back it very easily.

My assistant and I wheeled into the room that was to be hers. As her heart beat continued to drop I heard myself calling for electrical impulses while I tended to her head.

It was a blur. I found myself around two another healers and my assistant. My place was above her head where I was trying to tend to her head injuries- trying to figure out what was wrong.

There was no internal bleeding- thank god- which was amazing for a woman her age. There was just some swelling in the left hemisphere of the brain.

As I heard her heart beat pick up again, I knew that she would be okay.

As all the other healers raced for another call, I went summoned a tonic that would reduce the swelling, and increase the healing speed.

I had trouble. She wouldn't swallow.

"Come on Mrs. Wilson. It'll make you feel better," her eyes weren't open, but I knew that she could hear me, "little sips," I heard myself coaxing.

After all of the tonic was gone, I stared at this woman. Was this the way I would die? Would I be old and with graying hairs? Would I have children and grandchildren to cluster around my bed?

I thought Mrs. Wilson was beautiful. No one understands when I say that. Aging is beautiful. It's natural; it's what your body does. It's heart-warming to see deep smile lines- lots of laughter in a lifetime. We take everything slower when we're older. Sure, it's because of physical reasons, but I think God, or whoever is out there, slows us down when we get older because he wants us to be more aware of the world. He wants us to start to be thankful for the little things when everything else starts to fail.

He wants us to scowl as we scorn the youngsters that speed past on bicycles because He wants us to remember when we were that age- the age of carelessness. The age on which you were invincible- top of the world.

Some people think the worst part of living long is that death always seems so close. You hear about friends passing away and maybe even a loved one. And we may cry, and hurt, but, somehow, it'll be better at the end. Or that's what we're supposed to be.

I see death not as an ending, but as a beginning. No one knows what happens when you die, because no one has died and came back to tell the tale. I personally like to believe that we're reincarnated. I believe we're reincarnated until we find out the meaning of life- until we live a life lacking sin.

That's what I believe anyways.

But, I believe in a lot of things. I believe in karma, and the miracles of medicine, magic and science.

But I also believe in God, just because I like hoping that there is someone out there listening in at all times. I like knowing that when I wake up in hours of darkness, someone is looking over me. I like to believe that my prayers are heard, even in the middle of the night.

I look at these crinkled hands before me, almost as white as the sheet they lay on. Her old fragile body is still except for expanding and tapering back in of her thoracic cavity.

What surprised me the most about this woman- this amazing person- is that the whole time- even as I though she was going to die- she was calm. But now, she looked even more peaceful.

I wondered if she had seen into the next life, I wondered whether she had been close to the cutting of her string- her lifeline.

Her calmness was unnerving in the noisy atmosphere of the room.

There were different kinds of people. There were the people who came into the hospital on stretchers and were completely panicked. There were the people who thought they were fine and would say or do anything to get them out of the hospital. Then there were the people who were silent- they were the scariest. It wasn't a peaceful silence, it was a struggling one. I was as though they couldn't breathe.

And then, there were the calm ones. They looked as tranquil as a forest just before dawn- they were untouched by everything that was occurring around them. Untouched by except for rays of sunshine and drops and dew in early morning. As untouched as the water was in the darkest depths of the world.

There was blood everywhere. I couldn't escape it, and it didn't matter anymore. Nothing of material possession mattered.

I walked into the staff bathroom, it was clean, but yet the stench of the hospital still managed to seep through the niches in the walls. I took off my gloves- threw them away. And then I walked over to the sink.

And I scrubbed. I scrubbed my hands as hard as I could hoping that with the blood I'd wash away the sorrow and pain. My hands were pink and raw- and yet I still scrubbed. I wanted to scrub my whole body.

I wanted to scrub this hospital. I wanted to scrub away this war.

This war- this war had caused _everything_.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. In and out. Inhale. Exhale.

But somewhere in the process I started to cry. It seemed like I was doing that too often. People say crying is healthful- every one needs a good cry once in a while. But, I was beyond that point of 'one-in-a-while'.

And when I opened my eyes, and looked in the mirror that hung in front of my face, I felt like smashing my fist into it.

I had hoped that I would open my eyes and the world would be bright and happy again- like it once was.

I stared back at the girl I didn't know anymore. She looked just like me- but I wasn't her- I didn't know who I was. I was lost in the crowd of people, once again. I was tired of feeling like this- I always did. Except for that one year with Jam- his name was painful to hear- to see- to think about.

The door swung open.

I ran the water cold – harsh on my raw hands- and splashed it on my face. I needed to look calm. I needed to go out into that busy waiting room and tell Mr. Wilson that his wife was going to be okay. I needed to keep going on...to keep taking those tiny steps.

"Lily Evans?"

I looked up at the sound of my name, and wiped- with my hands- as much water off my face as I could. I was cold.

I looked at the young intern that had uttered my name. I was once like that. Eager to perform. Eager to please. Eager to move on with life.

Life was simple once, not filled with hatred or fear. There was a time when I thought life couldn't get any better. Now, I hoped life couldn't get any worse, but it did. And it was all I though about.

I smiled a small smile which I hoped was gentle- I wouldn't want to be seen unkempt and languid in any way. It was a disease- I was a perfectionist.

"I'll be right there," I heard the words come out, but I didn't think about them.

At least today I would be able to give some good news to someone. You couldn't guess how much it hurts to tell someone's loved one that they're dead.

The young intern smiled back and said, "Well, I should be going- I think someone else is calling me," she said it with such lightheartedness I couldn't help but envy her.

I felt my feet whooshing past the sink, and I felt the cold metal door under my finger only for a second, to take a deep breath, before I pushed it open. And as I pushed open the door, I reopened the one to the real world. I reopened the one that I never wanted to open. I was Pandora, I had to open the box- except here, it was the door.

I felt sick as I walked down the hall. I felt nauseous and I wanted to crumble in a heap to the floor. I wanted to be rid of the horrid images. I wanted the bleeding people to start smiling and stop bleeding. And I wanted this war to be over. I wanted this world to have peace. I wanted more than I could get, and I knew that. So every time I dreamt I was disappointed.

The waited room was teeming with individuals, and I walked in, I knew I was already lost. "Mr. Wilson?" I called out in vain.

"Excuse me-"

"Have you seen-"

"My wife she got taken in-"

"I've been here for BLOODY HOURS-"

They were swarming around me now, like ants do when they find those precious bits of sugar- sweet and delectable. I called out apologizes and hoped to God they could pardon me. There was nothing more I wanted to do than help every single person in this room. I hated to see worry; I hated to see pain. Unfortunately, I seem to be the cause of all of this.

"MR. WILSON," I tried shouting over the numerous voices and tiptoeing to peer over people's heads.

I saw a man out of the corner of my eye. He was old and decaying, but beautiful like only an elderly can be. He was hunched in the corner with his head in his hands. His whole body was rocking back and forth, back and forth….

I don't know exactly how I knew, but I knew. This was Mr. Wilson, husband of the Mrs. Wilson who had just recovered her life.

I pushed my way through the surrounding people and wove through their limbs.

"Mr. Wilson," I said as I was standing in front of him.

He didn't look up.

I tried raising my voice, "Mr. WILSON."

He looked up suddenly and my eyes locked with a pair of light gray eyes framed with whitened hair and wrinkled eye lids. His melancholy gaze met mine under long, whitened eyelashes. He was weary and disgustedly overworked. He seemed like everyone in this world- tired. We were tired of the rollercoaster ride we rode on. But, every time the loop or the sudden drop came, we were surprised, even though we knew it was coming. Life is like that- unexpected- and every so often a new section of the coaster would be removed and replaced. There were always surprises.

There was no rule book, no guidelines, and no blueprint. It was being made up as we went along.

There was a bald spot forming on his head. It shone like polished glass in the bright lighting, like a new day with a new sunrise. It was lovely.

I felt the emotion building up in my chest. I could tell him. I could tell someone once that they wouldn't have to worry. I could pacify that ache- this time. I could give good news for the first time in what seemed like years.

"Excuse me." I had to raise my voice so that I could speak over the noise in the room. I was looking straight at this man in front of me, but he did not see or hear me. "Excuse me, Mr. Wilson?" I was almost yelling. The room was bedlam – it was too small for the amount of people that were present in it.

"Yes, that is I," his voice was slightly raspy and strained.

"Hello," I said, "I was your wife's healer, and I just came to tell you that she is fine, and recovering."

He jumped up. I didn't think that he would have the energy or strength to do so, but he defied my thoughts.

"Will you take me to her?" His voice was pleading.

"I'm sorry sir, it's against-"

"_Please. I'm begging you." _

I sighed. I couldn't just leave him here simply holding on to my words. I knew what it was like, he wanted to see her so badly – he wouldn't have stop pleading if I said no.

"Come with me, I will take you to her."

He followed me silently as we weaved through the crowd and once again into the bloodstained hallway. I felt the man stiffen beside me; I knew he didn't expect to see what he saw. And, he had a right not to expect it. Our once immaculate hospital was dirty and soiled.

I breathed deeply trying to ignore the stench that wafted to my nose. As we neared the desired room, my heart started to beat faster. It was if my mind had already predicted what I would see.

As we walked into the room, and I pulled back the curtain, I saw Mrs. Wilson. She was smiling, and in the deepest slumber a life could have.

Mrs. Wilson had flatlined.

She was dead.

I heard the poor man's sobs as he threw himself over the body of his dead wife. I heard myself apologizing and trying to explain.

It was the only bit of happiness I had to offer to him. And it had left my fingers like a fleeting ray of sunshine. I was in darkness again

It was hopeless, and once again I felt useless.

* * *

Disclaimer: same as always, I don't own the characters.

A/N: Long time no see! It was a little depressing, no? Our poor heroine…


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